Come Back To Me
by ForeverSirius77
Summary: It'd been three days since they were together. Three days ago, she'd told him. Three days ago, he'd left. Now, with only minutes left, they tried to express everything they felt, say everything they wished to say, before time ran out. "Come back to me."


_Disclaimer__: Anything you recognise does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling. However, anything you do not recognise does belong to me._

_Summary__: _"I love you."_ It had been three days since they'd been together. Three days ago, she had told him. Three days ago, he had left. And now, with only minutes left to them, they tried to express everything that they felt for one another, tried to say everything that they wished to say, before time ran out. _"Come back. Come back to me."

_Author's__ Note__: All right, here's another fic from me, and while this is just going to be a one-shot, it's part of a larger, overall story. (There's more information about all of that in the A/N at the end, so please read that.) The quote at the beginning comes from the film, _Atonement, _that I'd actually watched just hours before I started writing this fic. And now, to the story. I present for your reading enjoyment, _Come Back To Me.

* * *

**Come Back To Me**

**By ForeverSirius77**

* * *

"_I love you. I'll wait for you. Come back. Come back to me."_

--Atonement _film_

* * *

Torrents of rain pelted down from the dark clouds that covered a night sky, the crescent moon and twinkling stars hidden behind the heavy clouds, their lights made unseen. The storm had been raging for days, the water barely taking a break as it fell. Rivers encroached upon their banks, shorelines disappeared as lakes overflowed. Storms had assaulted the country continuously and unceasingly, but nothing compared to the power of the weather on this night.

Tonight, the rain fell harder, the wind blew fiercer, the thunder rumbled louder and the lightning flashed brighter than it had since the storms had first started. Branches of trees strained against the assault of the wind and water, leaves being ripped from their limbs in the forceful gales.

Sounds of pounding rain echoed off of the house's roof, the wind making the walls of the structure moan and creak under the harsh treatment. The windows had all been shut and locked, so as to prevent them from blowing open in the storm and flooding the rooms within. The house was dark, no light visible in any of the main rooms, and if one climbed the stairs, ascending to the upper levels, they would have been hard pressed to discover anyone dwelling within the large home.

For, only a small, solitary, flickering light could be seen underneath one of the doors of a room on the third floor. So tiny it was, having only a single candle as its source, that such a light would have easily been overlooked if one was not searching for it. And generally, a person would never have even ascended to the third floor to come across the light; rarely did anyone venture to the house's highest level, for it was only the home of an attic and an abandoned office.

But he knew differently. He knew, the second that he walked into the house, that she would be in that office, regardless of the fact that it had been locked for months – or so everyone thought. Too many memories of her past were in that office, she would claim, telling anyone that would ask her why she kept it closed off that it was just too painful to think about. She had never told anyone _exactly _what was in the office, had never told anyone _exactly _what her past consisted of; they all just accepted her explanation as it was, not feeling that it was their place to force her to move on.

And to this day, even he did not fully know the contents of the room behind which the candlelight shone. Whether her past was represented in photographs lining the walls and shelves, or childhood books that held friendly notes in the margins, he did not know. Whether it was displayed in boxes or trunks of youthful and teenage trinkets, or letters from loved ones and acquaintances, his mind knew not that information. For, she had been the only one to ever enter the office; no one else had ever dared. And she only walked through the locked door when she sought to be utterly alone, which, ironically enough, were the times when being alone was the _last _thing she should be.

So he started climbing the stairs, slowly taking one step after the other, and his movements were cautious so as to keep the stairs from creaking. He was not quite ready to alert her to his presence, though a part of him felt sure that she already knew he was there. She had always been able to tell when he was near, it seemed. Ever since the beginning of their relationship, a relationship that had started over two years ago, she always knew when it was him who stood outside of her door or approached her in the street.

How she knew, no one could say. But she just did; she had always known.

Water dripped from his clothing and hair, falling to the floor and creating puddles that displayed the fact that he'd been out in the raging storm. He had already removed his coat, the wettest of his clothing, and had tossed it on a chair near the front door before climbing the staircase. His hand trailed up the railing as he walked, his fingers running along the smooth, darkened wood of the banister. Step after step he ascended, reaching the landing to the second floor and then continuing on his way to the third and final floor of the house.

He stood for a brief moment, both feet on the very last stair, his gaze looking down the dark, narrow corridor in front of him. He knew, though the lack of light hid them from sight, that a few pictures hung on the blue-painted walls. There was one of her birthday last year, and another of the Christmas gatherings two years ago. There was her Healer's certification on one wall, while on either side of it was displayed the marks from her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.

But it was near the hallway's end where his ultimate destination lay. Two doors stood on either side of the corridor, both closed off and blocking the rooms from his sight. On the right stood the locked and scarred, wooden door that led to a narrow, winding staircase, whose destination was that of the home's attic. He didn't know when the last time was that anyone had entered the attic; there'd never been any need to, really, and a small, silver key hung on the wall next to the door, the metal covered in a thick layer of dust.

The door on the left side of the dark corridor, however, was the one towards which he headed.

It was in a far better condition than the other door, having been replaced just over a year ago, when the office beyond was still in regular use. Its wooden surface was smooth and darkly coloured, the handle polished silver. As he came closer to the door, he realised that it hadn't been fully closed, such as it had appeared from the staircase. The flickering light from the candle within could be seen running like a ribbon down the length of the doorframe, a tiny crack visible that told him the door had only been pushed _nearly_ closed.

He stood outside the door for a moment, making no move to push the obstacle out of his way and enter the room beyond. Sighing, he ran a hand through his long, ebony locks of hair, the black strands still dripping wet from the storm as he pushed them from his face. And then, ever so slowly, he reached out a hand, placed his fingers on the door, and silently pushed it open.

Regardless of the dim lighting, it did not take him long to see her. She sat just where he had always found her: on the window seat, her arms wrapped around her knees that were pulled to her chest, gaze focussed outwards through the glass panes that were being coated with rain on this night. Long, brown curls hung around her face, the ends already starting to appear a bit frizzy, as they tended to do in this sort of weather.

She did not even turn her head to acknowledge him, though he knew that his image was reflected in the window. He still stood in the doorway, not taking a single step further into the room. He pushed the door completely open, exposing the entirety of the office, and leaned against the doorframe as his eyes stayed focussed on the young woman sitting across from him.

Lightning flashed every once in a while, the room being plunged into light as if the sun had risen, only to disappear back into the heavy shadows a second later. The rain ran down the window, rivers of the water trailing along the glass. Thunder boomed, the sound loud and echoing, yet neither of them made a single movement to acknowledge it. She kept her eyes staring out of the window, while he kept his own gaze on her.

"I wasn't expecting you to come," she whispered, her voice so soft, so silent, that for a moment, he was not even sure if he had actually heard the young woman speak. She never turned her head to face him, never altered her focus from the outside.

He swallowed, sighing, and allowed the silence to fall over them as he attempted to find a reply. He knew why she had not thought he would be there, why he had not set foot in the house for the past three days, why it was so hard for him to figure out what to say right now.

He glanced back up at her, having lowered his head previously to stare at the floor, and saw her give the most reaction she had since he'd entered the room. He watched as she sighed and swallowed herself, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.

* * *

She had known he was in the house since the moment he'd stepped through the front door. She knew every sound her home made, and knew exactly when he had started to climb the stairs, knew that he'd stopped at the top before walking down the corridor. She knew the very second that he made it to her door, pushed it open, and stood watching her. She had known, but she had been honest when she'd said she hadn't expected him to come back.

She had kept her eyes focussed outside, knowing that the instant she turned around, her emotions would, undoubtedly, get the better of her – and that was something that just couldn't happen, regardless of how much she wished with her entire heart it could be so. There was no turning away from what would happen in just a few minutes from now, when the clock on the wall struck midnight, and the nineteenth day of September dawned.

Sighing, she swallowed, bringing her knees closer to her chest, a slight chill sending a shiver racing down her spine. Closing her eyes, she futilely tried to banish the tears that sought to fall as the memories of what had happened only days ago began to take precedence in her mind once again.

_The storms that would, eventually, last for days, had just started only a few hours ago, the wind and rain incredibly mild compared to what the end results would produce. Clouds were not nearly as dark, and people still had little problems wandering the streets in the dismal weather. Lightning had yet to light up the sky, and the booms of thunder were barely heard. _

_In the house near the end of the road, the young couple sat together in the parlour, occupying a single sofa, whereas they had started out in separate chairs. Drinks, parchment notes, folders, and other evidence of the initial reason for their meeting lay on the gleaming glass table in front of them, business having long been forgotten. _

_Both nearing twenty-two years of age, the young man and woman had been together for over two years, ever since she had first ran into him – literally – on a street in Hogsmeade. Through springs and summers, autumns and winters, the two had grown closer as time passed, a closeness that, it seemed, had almost no possibility of disappearing. Every holiday was spent in each other's company and the company of their friends, neither having actual blood relatives that they wished to visit. _

_And yet, regardless of the amount of time they spent together, both still led their separate lives. She had become one of St. Mungo's top Healers, while he had begun making his way through the Auror ranks. Their homes still remained separate, to the vast amusement of their friends; after all, everyone would claim, they very rarely seemed to spend too many nights away from each other. But both the young man and woman would simply smile, making no comment either way regarding their living situation. _

_Tonight had been a night for him to come over to her home, whereas she'd spent most of last week at his. Unfortunately, tonight had not been strictly a social call, and the business that still lay on the table _did _need to be finished. But neither he nor she had any drive to move onto the actual work. _

_She was far too comfortable leaning against him, after all, with her head lying near his shoulder, while his strong arm wrapped around her. She smiled as she felt his fingers subconsciously twisting her curly hair, but the expression soon disappeared when she realised that things could not remain so. After all, her birthday was in only a few days' time, and she knew that she still had to tell him. _

"_Sirius," she said, her voice barely audible. Her mind was swirling as it tried to figure out just how she was supposed to say the words that, while she knew _had _to be spoken, she would give anything to keep from uttering. _

"_Yeah?"_

_Lifting her head slowly from its comfortable position, she looked into his eyes, her own brown orbs locking with his grey depths. As difficult as it felt to stare directly into his gaze, she knew that she had to. Silence reigned as she struggled to put her thoughts into words, a part of her thankful that he hadn't removed his arm from her shoulders, even as he shifted his own position on the sofa. _

"_I have something I need to tell you," she whispered, her hands twisting in her lap. She blinked and held her eyes closed, lowering her head to stare at her hands. _No, _she thought. _I can't do it. I can't look at him when I tell him this … _And she knew the instant that he had sensed her anxiety. _

_He lifted her face back up to meet his, and she saw nothing but love in the eyes that pierced her own. Emotions assaulted her from everywhere, her mind and soul a twisted mess of guilt, sadness, love, desire, hope … Unfortunately, she knew that he could not yet know what she was feeling, the reasons for her myriad of emotions, for she'd still not told him. _

"_What is it, Hermione?" _

_Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, and the logical part of her brain knew that she probably looked a bit foolish at that point, but she didn't care. She sighed, opening her eyes once again after ensuring that tears weren't about to cascade down her cheeks and, looking right at him, she finally told him. _

"_I have to leave," she said. "By Saturday, I'll be gone."_

_Silence fell over the both of them once again, with only the sounds of a nearby clock ticking and the rain falling outside to break it. All the while, she managed to keep her eyes on him, waiting for him to say something – anything. _

"_Where – Where are you going?" he asked, the question not the one she had been immediately expecting. _

"_I'm not – I'm not really sure," Hermione answered, swallowing. "I don't know. I can't really say …"_

"_Why, Hermione?" wondered Sirius, his eyes leaving her face for the first time since their conversation began. He looked away from her, pulling his arm from her shoulders as he did so. "Why did you – Why can't you –"_

Why, indeed, _she thought, cursing what little knowledge she had concerning the magic that was at work here: the magic that had originally brought her to him and the same magic that was now forcing her to leave. The task of keeping her tears at bay was slowly failing as she shook her head, biting her lip slightly. "Sirius, it's – it's complicated –" _

_Her words were cut off as he rose abruptly from the sofa, stepping away from her and starting to head towards the door. He didn't make it further than a few steps, however, before she called out to him. _

"_I love you!"_

_She could not bear to have them part like this, with him walking out of the door, her last image before having to leave being the sight of his back as he angrily walked away from her. And although he did not turn around to face her, her exclamation had at least halted him from coming any closer to his departure. _

_They had expressed their love towards each other before; this was not the first time those three words had been uttered by either Sirius or Hermione towards the other. A late-night walk through a park under starlit skies had been the first, on an evening that neither had wanted to end. _

"_I love you," she said quietly. She stayed sitting on the sofa, her position barely changing since she'd began talking. A part of her knew that she could have gotten up, could have walked over to him herself, yet she was too hesitant. So instead, she waited and watched the dark-haired wizard in front of her, every bit of her heart yearning for him to acknowledge her words. _

_And yet, regardless of her expression, regardless of her wish and desire, he still did not turn around. "Please, don't leave like this, Sirius …" She watched as his head bowed, the dark curtains of hair falling around his face. She watched as he breathed, sighed, and swallowed. _

"_Come back," she whispered, her voice barely able to be heard across the room, but she knew he'd caught every word. "Come back to me."_

_Her eyes never wavered from his tall form standing just steps in front of her, and she knew the very instant he had made a decision. She didn't even have to watch as he took one step closer towards the door, one step further away from her, to know. She didn't have to watch, but she just could not bring herself to tear her gaze away. _

_She watched as his long strides covered the length of the room in no time; she watched as he made it to the door; and she watched as he walked out of the room, his face never having turned back around to look at her. _

* * *

He knew, as he saw her close her eyes, that she was remembering the events of only a few days ago, remembering how he had left without taking another glance at her. He had gone home then, ignoring the rain that was falling, his steps taking him subconsciously along the streets to his house. He'd entered, his mind in a daze, climbed his own staircase to his bedroom, and hadn't left since.

He'd stayed within his house, going from room to room. Thoughts and emotions would swirl through his mind, making him confused. He would pass moments in anger, hurling something across the room, while other hours would be spent in silent melancholy, his gaze on the walls or ceilings, his mind unfocussed. He ignored everything – the owls that would tap on his windows, the knocks on his front door by visiting friends, the calls on the Floo, everything.

The hours had accumulated to a day, one day turned into two, and then the third rolled around. Storms had grown to their harsh intensity that they presently were, and after three days of separating himself from everyone, of being alone, of thinking, he had decided to come back.

Still not quite knowing the words to say, he decided just to approach her. He straightened and took the first step into the office, an office he had never entered before, had never actually had the chance to see what lay within – but such thoughts were not what occupied his mind at this moment. No, his gaze remained on her as she sat at the window, her profile visible as she continued staring out of the glass.

The sound of his boots hitting the wooden floor with each step seemed to echo around the room, the worn floorboards creaking as he stepped in certain spots. He knew that she was aware of his approach, knew that she would have been even if no sounds were made. He watched as her back straightened, her grip around her knees shifting, and he never removed his stare from her sitting form as he approached.

He didn't stop until he stood just inches behind her, his body separated from hers by such a minor distance. Had she leaned back just a bit, or had he moved forwards a hair's breath, they would have touched. It was the closest that they'd been in three days, yet the distance still remained between them – a distance that both longed to vanish, but neither knew how to do so.

She had kept her gaze staring out of the window, not even turning around to face him when he could tell by her posture that she could easily feel him standing so close to her. Silence hung heavily over the couple, the only sounds coming from the storms raging outside and a clock mounted on the wall, each _tick … tick … tick _of the timepiece passing the moments that they had to be together, the time of her departure coming closer and closer.

Slowly, hesitantly, like she would vanish if his actions were too quick, he lifted his hand to rest on her shoulder, finally initiating the contact that both had wanted. He felt her tense under his hand, though the moment passed almost instantly, and she relaxed into his touch. Not breaking the touch, he moved around to stand in front of her, taking his own seat next to her by the window.

"I realised –" he started, but broke off as he swallowed. Her eyes were no longer staring at a far off point in the distance, but were now staring downwards, at the top of her knees. Lifting his other hand, he raised her head, forcing their gazes to meet.

Unshed tears sparkled in her dark brown orbs, tracks of those that had already fallen down her face staining her cheeks. The smile that usually graced her features was absent, and her curly hair hung limply around her. She blinked once, twice, the third blink causing droplets of water to escape her eyes.

"I realised that I couldn't just walk away, Hermione," he whispered. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder, and although his voice was quiet, barely audible, he knew that she'd heard him. "If you had to leave, I didn't want the last time I saw you to end that way, just walking out of the door …"

He trailed off, allowing the silence to fall over them once again as he bowed his own head and broke the gaze he'd held with her. The sound of the ticking clock seemed to echo in his mind, for he knew that midnight was approaching – and then she would be gone. With another flash of light, he caught sight of the clock out of the corner of his eye and sighed.

_11:57_

Three minutes … _Only three, goddamn minutes, _he thought. How were they supposed to say everything they needed to in just three minutes? How could he express the depth of his feelings for her, tell her everything that had been on his mind for the past few days, tell her everything he felt, in only three minutes? It'd taken him nearly a quarter of an hour to get even this far. Three minutes just wasn't –

His thoughts were torn from the time when he felt her lips meeting his in a brief kiss before pulling back. Their eyes met, brown staring into grey, that brief pause telling each of them what words couldn't say, before their lips joined again.

Every emotion that both of them felt was poured into the kiss, the simple romantic gesture growing deeper and deeper as it expressed desire, need, love, hope, sadness, grief, guilt, and so much more. Hands wound into their hair, his wrapping around her curly, brown strands while her smaller fingers ran through his ebony locks.

Lightning flashed outside, the storm still raging as thunder followed, and the winds made the glass panes of the window rattle. Rain pounded on the roof, and the clock continued its ticking. But neither Sirius nor Hermione paid it any attention. After all, they only had three minutes.

_11:59 _

They both happened to glance at the clock at the same time, having briefly separated from their kiss. The time glared out at the two lovers as they saw that only one minute remained for them. Each _tick _of the timepiece seemed louder; it echoed in their ears, reverberating in their heads. The nineteenth day of September would begin in just under a minute, when the clock struck twelve. And Hermione would be twenty-two years old … and she would leave.

Together, they turned from the clock, their eyes meeting once again that night. And he knew, as he stared into her brown depths, that it would do no good to beg her to stay, knew that – for whatever reason – she _couldn't _stay. For, in her eyes, he saw her desire to do nothing else than that, her desire and need to stay with him, her intense wish that she could remain. But it was tempered with the knowledge that she couldn't. Such wasn't possible, and while he still did not understand the full reasons of _why, _he knew that reasons existed; and he knew that she understood them.

He didn't look back at the clock as he opened his mouth, hoping the words that he'd struggled to find earlier would come to him now, hoped that he could express everything he wanted to say to her before the time ran out. He knew he had all of thirty – or perhaps only fifteen – seconds to speak.

"Hermione," he started, his hands reaching up to cup around her face as he kept his eyes locked with hers. He could see the tears that she no longer struggled to hold back start to fall from her eyes, marking their paths down her cheeks. She blinked as he wiped them away, but she didn't break her gaze with him.

"I love you," he whispered, keeping every bit of his attention on her. He tried to pour everything that he felt into these few simple actions, these few words spoken in just the seconds that he had. Each second that passed seemed to reverberate in his head, the _tick_ing of the clock seeming to grow louder as midnight steadily approached.

"Sirius, I –"

But he silenced her, placing a finger to her lips. "I know," he muttered, for he did; she had already told him how she felt, after all, only days ago before he'd walked away. Yet he only had these few moments to tell her how _he _felt. Moments that, with each movement of the clock's hand, disappeared.

"I love you, Hermione," said Sirius, his voice quiet. "I won't forget you … I _can't _forget you. It's just impossible, so –" He broke off once again, even though he knew that the time was running out, midnight coming closer and closer. But his mouth couldn't form the words that he wished to say, couldn't find the right statements to express everything.

So he leant down once again that night, his lips meeting hers in a final kiss.

The chiming of the clock broke them from their passion, tearing them from the oblivious world that was comprised of only each other and ripping them back into the reality of the present. Two heads turned to face the clock on the wall, and they watched as the hands met at the top, the second chime telling them that midnight had arrived.

Sirius still had Hermione's face held in his hands, their gazes now having returned to each other after leaving the damning timepiece. Each successive chime rang in their heads, echoing around the room. _Dong … Dong … Dong … Dong … Dong … _

Hermione opened her mouth, whispering a quick "I love you" to Sirius as the ninth chime rang out.

"Just know that I love you, too," he replied, his response sharing company with the tenth chime from the clock. "And come back, Hermione." Another _dong _sounded, and as the twelfth and final chime began, Sirius spoke for the final time, his voice just a nearly-silent whisper.

"Come back to me."

The ending of the twelfth _dong _brought with it a brilliant flash of light, light that overcame the intense darkness of the room in a way no lightning from the storm outside had ever done. It blinded him, making it impossible for him to see anything. But as quickly as it had arrived, the light disappeared.

And so had Hermione, leaving Sirius alone.

"Please," he whispered, the logical part of his mind telling him that no one was there, that his words would go unheard. But he didn't care.

"Come back to me, Hermione."

* * *

_Author's __Note__: Well, there you have it. I've mentioned in several places that I've absolutely fallen in love with this pairing in the past few months, and I just had to write this story. It's quite of a different experimentation for me, as I don't write Hermione very often, much less in a romance, and the sole time I did was in a fluffy, pre-DH-canon, R/Hr piece. _

_Also, if it wasn't 100 clear, this fic takes place in 1981, just a little over a month before James and Lily are killed. There is more of a story to this; for instance, there's the background story telling how a 22-year-old Hermione ended up with a 22-year-old Sirius. (I mentioned in here that they'd been together for over two years, as well, for example.) You'll find a few hints in this fic about that, but the whole story (if I decide to write it) will be posted as a separate, chaptered fic. A lot of the specific details are still quite vague in my head, I'll admit, and I also have another one-shot partly written (and it should be up soon, I hope) that tells _another _part of this overall large story for Sirius and Hermione. _

_I suppose you could think of it like this: Overall, there is this one huge story that takes place in several different points in time – First War, Hogwarts Era, Post-Hogwarts, etc. But the story, rather than told in just one, single fic, is being told in three different parts – two one-shots and a chaptered story – that'll be posted in a bit of an odd order, I'm afraid._

_But I hope you enjoyed this one-shot, and thank you so very much for reading. Please, let me know what you think!_

_--ForeverSirius77 _


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